An AngryWorded Letter
by Leuuci
Summary: Moss is writing an angry letter, but Roy and Jen find its subject particularly funny. Moss doesn't find it funny, at all. OneShot.


Roy looked up slowly from behind his computer monitor. He blinked and watched as Moss typed furiously against his keyboard, switching his head quickly from looking at his hands to his screen. The noise he was making from hitting the plastic was disturbing Roy's magazine reading. And for a good, long while, he stared.

"What _are _you doing?" He asked confusedly after a few minutes of watching the other man type.

Moss stopped tapping letters into his computer, hands held frozen above his keyboard. He looked up at Roy with a look of pure anger, which instantly perplexed to a much jollier look as he suddenly adjusted his glasses and smiled triumphantly.

"_I, _Roy, am writing a _very _angry letter," he said in a pleased manner,

Roy squinted, "to _whom_?"

"Now, that would be telling," Moss grinned, turning back to his keyboard and continuing with his furious typing, his expression quickly souring and becoming as it did before; angry.

Roy blinked silently, uncrossing his legs and swinging them down off of his desk, putting down his magazine and pulling himself out of his seat with a grunt. He brushed himself over casually and then strode over to Moss' desk, quietly inching his way around behind moss and weaving his head around behind Moss' own in order to try and see what his colleague was typing.

"Roy." Moss growled, spinning in his chair to face the Irish man, and folding his arms. His large hairstyle was blocking Roy's view of the document being typed, "You can't see my letter,"

"It's angrily worded, right? I just wanted to see what you were typing. I mean, come on, we know how you 'swear' and it isn't really _that _angry sounding."

Just as he was speaking, Jen emerged from her office, looking confusedly over towards the two men. Roy looked up quickly and stepped back.

"What's going on?" Jen questioned, leaving her hand on her doors handle as she closed it. Her eyes drifted from Roy, and down to Ross who was still facing the man with his arms folded. Slowly, Moss swivelled in his chair and cheerfully greeted the red haired woman.

"Oh, Hello Jen! I'm just writing and angry-worded letter, and Roy's trying to read it,"

"Ooh," Jen cooed, letting go of her door and waltzing towards the men, "an angry letter written by Moss. I've never thought of it. What're you complaining about?"

"It'd be inconsiderate of me to tell,"

Roy scoffed, "Inconsiderate? Pah, it's really probably nothing. I bet you're just getting all fussy about the fact the mug with your _face_ on it that hasn't turned up yet,"

"Hey!" Moss called, looking back at his colleague, looking hurt, "That was an important matter. Someone in this entire building has a cup which is my property; it was my face on it!"

"Now," Ross said calmly, "and whose fault was that?"

Moss fell silent. He shrugged and looked to his screen, then between both his quiet colleagues. They were waiting for him to respond.

"Well, if you _must_ know, I'm complaining about the state of our toilet. It's a mess."

Immediately, Roy burst into a spasm of laughing, covering his face with a hand as it turned red. He snorted once or twice, which caused him to laugh further. Jen then also started laughing, her voice ringing loud and deep. Was it really that amusing, complaining about the state of a bathroom?

"Guys, come on," Moss pleaded emotionlessly, "You know that the toilet down here is terrible, let me write my angry letter in peace."

"You…" Roy gasped between breaths, "You're writing – a letter 'bout our toilet!"

Moss seemed unfazed by the laughing couple that stood around him. He looked between them confusedly, then shrugged and continued to type, his brow furrowing every now and then as he imagined himself typing as if he were speaking it out.

"Oh Moss," Jen said with a laugh after a few minutes of teary giggling, "You really do amuse me. You? _angry_?"

With a growl, he twisted his head towards the ginger haired woman, grimacing and twitching his lip slightly.

"Listen here," he said darkly, putting his hands onto his lap slowly, "I don't flipping see what you find so incredibly flipping funny about this. It's as serious as a piece of dropped toast and the butter's touched the floor. Butter _never_ touches the floor when it's on toast. That's the seriousness of this subject matter."

"Pfffffft!" Jen wheezed, holding back a burst of laughter, "Ahaha, okay Moss, okay. You think that. Ahh dear," she turned slowly and headed back to her office with a brisk laugh. "I'm going back to work on something for 7th, you have fun with your letter," she laughed again as she entered her office.

Roy, by this point, had settled back behind his desk, still laughing with a red face. He was oblivious to Moss' direct glare, and shook his head as he picked up his magazine and tried to continue reading without laughing again.

Glaring at the Irish man, Moss squinted his eyes and flexed his neck. Slowly, he licked his lips and raised his chin a little. Then, he took a deep breath, and just as Roy stopped laughing, he opened his mouth and said loudly, in a deep and confident voice;

"You guys are mother-flipping wankers."


End file.
